The Uptown Lich
by M'aiq the Liar
Summary: A heartwarming and inspiring story of a Lich who dared to be...different.


M'aiq and other associated Elder Scrolls properties are under the Elder Scrolls (Bethesda) license; I'm just borrowing. The following events are fictional…to this Khajiit's knowledge at least. 

**M'aiq the Liar presents The Uptown Lich**

In a world of the living, many bother not to think about the undead and their world. Most of Tamriel shudder at hearing talk of a ghost. The brave speak of Liches without fright, and only the crazy actually fight them. In the ruins of an Ayleid temple on an island off the coast of Cyrodiil, there existed a small family of Liches. Very few adventurers came to bother them, and if it did happen, it was the last thing they ever did. They remained fierce undead who forever haunted the place.

However, while the family seemed to be utterly frightful and completely hateful of all living things, there existed one member of Liches who was not. He loved life and all it had to offer. He carried no staff of any affliction, damage or drain but a simple charming staff. He did not droop his shoulders and slink around the ruins like the others. He knew that promoted bad posture, so he always stood straight and moved with a slight bounce. Also, he refused to wear the ratty, brown cloaks that were popular among Liches; he figured those were just a fad. Instead, he dressed in a bright aqua green robe with a matching hood. His name was Jeriticus Corbala II, but he preferred people to call him Jerry or even Jer.

Jerry was seated in his room on a dark evening, peering at all the wonderful riches he had to offer to guests. Sadly, he was never able to get rid of them since his cousins always got to any wandering strangers before he could. His room was excessively embellished with candles, torches, and glowing Ayleid gems. He had never approved of the gloomy, corpse-ridden look that other Liches favored. Glass weaponry collected dust inside of old chests, and a full set of master alchemy equipment sat unused upon an altar, shining brightly. Unfortunately, Jerry had no ingredients. His cousins refused to allow the Lich outside the ruins whatsoever, especially not for flower picking.

Heaving a small sigh, Jerry left his room and headed into the main chambers. It was dark and drafty, but he had grown used to it. He'd even grown fond of the rats and ensured they had no fleas on them at all times by using a mix of bonemeal and ectoplasm, something else that bothered his cousins. He reached a skeletal hand down and affectionately scratched one of them behind the ear. The rat shrieked in detest and scrambled away. Suddenly, there came a pounding at the door. Jerry rushed up the steps and answered the call.

"Hello!" he greeted. Three men in black robes looked at the creature and took a step back. Their eyes were wide in disgust and shock. "Oh, no," said Jerry carefully, "please don't be afraid. I won't let my cousins kill you. Honest!"

"By the gods!" shouted one of them. Then, there came a screeching from behind him. Jerry's cousins came gliding up, staffs at the ready. The necromancers were about to flee when they saw the two Liches savagely beat the strange Lich down.

One of them shouted in a raspy voice, "Get back to your chamber!"

"Come on, you guys!" shouted Jerry. "I just wanted to be hospitable for once."

The other one replied, "Silence!" Heeding their words, Jerry walked off down the steps.

"Who are you guys?" asked one of the Liches. "You're not part of Mehrunes' Witnesses, are you? Because, you know, I kill any of those people who dare come up to these ruins."

One of the necromancers piped in, "Ah, we were just looking for a place to perform our…practices."

"Well," said one of the Liches, "we will only allow one."

"One?" inquired a necromancer.

The second Lich replied, "Yes."

"How do we decide who gets to stay here?" asked the third dark mage.

Jerry's voice echoed from behind them, "Oh! I smell a dance off!"

"Get back there!" shouted the Liches. "And no dancing!"

"Aw," moaned one of the necromancers. The two Liches aimed their staffs at him, expelling a dark red wave of heat. The mage fell back and didn't get up.

One of the necromancers said, "Well, now there's only two to choose from. Which one will you choose?" The Liches leaned in close to one another and whispered some things.

Finally, one of them shrugged and said, "Who's taller?"

"Oh, um, well," said one of them, "I think I am. Yes." The Liches killed him and nodded to one another approvingly.

The last necromancer looked at them and said with some apprehension, "So am I allowed in?"

"Yes," answered a Lich. He held forth a hand and said, "My name is Olanius. Welcome to our ruins."

"Oh," said the dark mage taking the Lich's hand with slight disgust, "I am Daenlyn."

The second Lich introduced, "Yes, and I am Teranticus. Come on in."

"And wipe your feet!" shouted Jerry from within the temple. The two Liches shook their heads as they hovered down the steps further into the ruins followed by their new ruin-mate, Daenlyn. The Bosmer brought in the bodies of his two friends, not wanting them to go to waste. Then, they got together and listened to Daenlyn tell the story of his life.

"Well," he said, "I was often picked on for being so short. As a Bosmer, we normally are short. I just wish people could understand that."

Jerry stated, "I agree! People can be so cruel. Just so cruel…" Olanius clubbed him with the end of his staff. "Jeez! So can Liches. I'm telling you, Daenlyn. These guys are a tough crowd, but they're not so tough as they seem. I know they really—" Once again Olanius clubbed him, and finally Jeriticus fell silent, rubbing the now bruised, decaying flesh on his side.

The necromancer continued his story, "Anyway, I was kicked out of the Mages Guild for climbing the gate to the gate to the Arcane University. Yeah, that's it. I didn't steal any cheap soul gem or anything. I punched one of those legion battlemages in the face and started going up that fence. Then, uh…well, they caught me. It took twenty of them, it did, or more. I would say at least forty were pulling me into the prison." The Liches exchanged disapproving glances. Jerry, though, was wholeheartedly buying every word from the Bosmer's mouth.

"Oh my gosh, no way!" said Jerry with excitement.

Meanwhile above ground, the recently acclaimed Champion of Cyrodiil, also known as the Hero of Kvatch, was combing the beautiful beaches of the Gold Coast, admiring the beautiful waters of the Abeccan Sea, when suddenly she spotted a small island in the very distance. Always up for an adventure, the heroine leapt into the water and swam towards it. Upon the island, she found an Ayleid ruin. From the outside, it appeared uninhabited, even by creatures. Carefully, she opened the door and snuck inside. Creeping from pillar to pillar, she snuck all the way to the doorway of a large chamber. She heard a conversation going on and paused to listen.

"Olan, did you really have to kill him?" asked a man, whose voice sounded nothing like any race she'd heard before. A sigh came in response.

Another voice replied, "Can you possibly stop speaking to me…forever?"

"Why would I do that?" asked the first voice.

She heard the sounds of shuffling footsteps retreat further into the Ayleid ruins. The Champion continued sneaking through the ruins, curious to discover who its occupants were exactly. Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. When she turned around, she was faced with a Lich holding its staff at the ready.

"Boo!" he yelled as a green light jettisoned from the tip of his staff. The champion shook her head and glanced up at the creature. She didn't know what kind of spell she had been hit by. She realized she still had her magical abilities, and she knew her mind wasn't under his control.

Then, she thought aloud, "Charm? Was I just hit by a charm spell?" Realizing the Lich was still standing there, she pulled out her blade, ready to slay the creature.

"Yeah," said the Lich. "That's right! You must know your spells." The Champion's eyes opened with surprise. She had never before heard a Lich utter so much as anything other than a dry shriek or a haunting cry.

He placed a bony hand at her back and directed her towards his chamber. "Come, traveler, I have many wonderful gifts for you! Oh, my name's Jerry by the way." She was uncomfortable being taken with this strange Lich, but she was rather tempted by the talk of gifts. Upon entering a brightly light room, she found a bountiful cache of wonderful treasures. Suddenly, she heard the usual Lich screams come from the main chambers.

Jerry quickly said, "Hurry, hide behind the crates or they'll kill you!"

The Champion feared no Liches whatsoever and rushed from the room. She vanquished the undead creatures effortlessly. The Champion returned to the room to look over the treasures, tripping over a badly mutilated Bosmer corpse on the way.

"Olan? Terry? Oh my, they really _are_ dead," said the Lich, fidgeting with the hem of his robe. "Whatever will I do now? Do you think I should stay here? It has a rather nice value property. However, I'm not so sure about the commute. It _is_ quite a hike to Anvil, much less the Imperial City. I'm not really sure."

The Champion, who could care less about the eccentric Lich's needs, simply suggested, "Uh…try acting?"

"Acting? Why…I have always dreamt of acting in a play. Do you think I could?" he asked excitedly.

She shrugged and said, "I'm sure you couldn't be any worse than the actors already there."

Feeling confident, Jerry left the ruins and traveled to fabulous Mournhold where he quickly became a mainstream star in the acting business. His key role was the flirtatious Crantius Colto in Crassius Curio's _The Lusty Argonian Maid_. Since he was a Lich, Jerry found himself often facing a lot of prejudice and exclusion. He was the first (and only) Lich to support a movement for undead rights, which did not last long.

He later wrote his own play entitled _Three Liches and a Necromancer and an Ayleid Temple_. Appropriately named, the play detailed the lives of three Liches and a necromancer in some Ayleid temple in a supposed humorous fashion. Unfortunately, the humor was a lot darker than most were accustomed to ("You stuck the mort flesh _where_?" Line 80, Scene 2), and Jerry could hardly get rid of all the copies. He soon faded away, and the people of Tamriel completely forgot about Jeriticus Corbala II, the Lich who dared to be different.


End file.
